


Favors

by ChaseTheFreakinStars



Category: Nuclear Throne (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Blood, Gen, Minor mentions of gore, Non-Graphic Violence, Not Beta Read, cursing, so many headcannons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 06:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6412651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaseTheFreakinStars/pseuds/ChaseTheFreakinStars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Rouge sees Fish, he’s staring down the barrel of her gun.<br/>The last time Rouge sees Fish, she’s staring down the barrel of his gun.</p><p>(aka one of those 5+1 fics but 3+1 because I couldn’t think of five times for them to meet. Written for the April Fool's 'Bodyswap' event, where fanartists write fics and Ficwriters draw fanart)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Favors

\---

The first time Rouge sees Fish, her hands are shaking.

It shouldn’t be this hard. He’s a mutie, a freak, a _monster._ Rouge’s finger shouldn’t hesitate on the trigger of her gun. Sweat rolls down her forehead, salty drops breaking against her rebreather and soaking the fabric where it suctions to her face.

He just _stares._

Fish is on his knees, arms bound behind him up to the elbow. He’s escaped from anything less, the others say. He stares up at her unflinchingly, his eyes cold and defiant. The muzzle of her weapon is pressed to his forehead, but he pays it no mind, even going so far as to lean into it. It’s a silent challenge. _Do it, I dare you._

The gun falters, once, twice, and finally drops to Rouge’s side. She is weak. God she’s weak. They’ll kill her if they find out, but at the moment, she could give less of a damn. She steps around Fish, skirting his boots and tail, and removes a switchblade from her belt. He’s still tense, and if she could see his face, he’d look disappointed. Typical, that the I.D.P.D wouldn’t grant him the courtesy to look his demise in the face. 

He doesn’t expect the rasp of a blade on rope, or the sudden freeing of his arms.

He’s gone before Rouge can stand again, rolling away at speeds unnatural for a creature of flesh and blood.  
She watches the sand settle in silence, and all at once, wonders if he has a name.

\---

The second time Rouge sees Fish, it’s on the battlefield. 

Bullets and energy bolts sing through the sky in a symphony of death. Fish is not alone this time, there are eleven other mutants scattered across the desert, firing their guns and swinging their sledgehammers and shovels. 

By some insane miracle, the mutants are winning.

Rouge fires half-heartedly at a mutant that looks like a plant who is mowing officers down by the dozen with a baseball bat. None of her bullets hit it, and it doesn’t even glance in her direction as it bashes a man’s head in. A short, clipped call rings over the noise of battle and the plant turns to it without hesitation and skitters off, dragging the splintered, blood-soaked bat behind it. Rouge blinks, stupefied. The thing had been going batshit crazy a moment ago, what in this dimension could possibly cause it to drop what it was doing so unquestioningly? 

The call rings out again and this time, she’s able to track it.

It’s him. 

His green scales are splashed with crimson like a morbid work of art. A pistol is clasped tightly in both his hands, and a dented guitar is strapped across his back. 

As Rouge watches, the other mutants slowly make their way to him, some even assisting their compatriots in their journey. It’s only when they all stand together around the green-scaled mutant that Rouge realizes that besides herself, there are only two officers left, and the Capitan’s voice is ringing in her earpiece, ordering a full retreat. 

As Rouge dives into the blue portal that will take her back to HQ, she hears cheers of victory rise from the mutants standing in the bloody sand.

Behind her rebreather, she smiles.

\---

The third time Rouge sees Fish, everything has gone to hell.

Air screeches in her ears and bites at her throat as she runs for her life. Energy bolts hail around her, but none make contact. They’re scared. Scared of hitting the machine strapped to her back, a weapon called “Portal Strike”. In the back of her mind, Rouge doesn’t care if they shoot her or not. She can taste it, the radiation. Her rebreather is broken, she’ll be a mutant herself, soon. She can never go back to HQ. 

She doesn’t want to anyways.

That’s why she stole the Portal Strike after all, if she was going to survive here, she had to make sure her former collogues didn’t destroy everything.  
The glint of metal behind a rock catches her off-guard, and she nearly stumbles before pushing forward. 

It’s him.

Again.

He’s curled up behind the rock, pistol propped on a knee. He looks like he’s sleeping, she hopes he is. He certainly doesn’t move as Rouge darts past him, or the Officers firing at her. They’re not letting up, and distantly, she prays that what she’s about to do doesn’t kill her. 

She arms the Strike and presses the trigger.

There’s a flash of light, then there’s nothing.

\---

The second time Fish sees Rouge, it’s over the barrel of his gun.

Fish stares down at her apprehensively. He recognizes her.

Barely.

Whatever it was she had done, it had blown her half to hell. Her right leg was a mangled mess and the rest of her was covered in a fine layer of sand, blood, and grit. The sound of the thing had scared the shit out of him, the hellfire that followed even more so. 

It takes him a moment to remember why she’s familiar. She’d spared him. Looked him in the eye and let him live. 

Now he looks her in the eye and all he sees is green.

He lowers his gun.

Fish knows that color, it’s an after-effect from the radiation. All the mutants have it. The good ones, anyway. This woman is a mutant now, and that means she’s family, whether she likes it or not.

Crystal’s going to kill him for this.

Fish breaks eye-contact to roughly shove his pistol back into its holster, barely remembering to flip on the safety as he does. When he glances back at her, her eyebrows are furrowed in confusion. He makes a noncommittal reassuring sound in his throat as he digs through his pockets for a medkit. He finds one at the bottom of his pocket and pulls it out triumphantly. He swiftly depresses the red cross on the front and drops it to the ground next to the woman, green mist pouring from valves on either side of the container.  
She resists at first, trying desperately to keep from inhaling the mist, but soon gives in. The mist starts taking effect immediately, and the woman’s leg starts knitting itself back together before their eyes. 

It won’t be enough to heal her completely, but she won’t be dying anytime soon. 

When the mist disperses fully, Fish stiffly extends his arm to her, offering to help her up. He expects rejection, her eyes are still bright with distrust, but she takes his hand with minimal reluctance. He hauls her to her feet in one movement, and her opposite hand shoots out to help her keep her balance. Once she’s squarely on her feet, Fish releases her hand and awkwardly hold his hand out again, for a different reason. It takes her a moment to figure it out, but when she does, she takes his hand again and gives it a gentle shake.

“Rouge.” It’s all she says, but he knows what she means.

“Fish.” She looks surprised that he knows English. Typical. He offers her a sharp-toothed smile anyways.

“Welcome to the Wasteland, Rouge.”  



End file.
